A Story of Smurfs.

I know I have't written much in a long time, but I've just thought of this story and it seemed worthy of being told.

I was sitting in Math class the other day, early in the morning (that's 11am to you ordinary mortals) and as usual at that time of day, my attention span is, oh, maybe 3 seconds long. In order to be unobtrusive and unremarked by my professor, I have a habit of writing down anything that's on the board, while mechanically taking a glance at the professor every once in a while. Basically, I put myself in Auto-pilot and hope for the best.

It's bad enough that I'm usually grumpy and confrontational to stupid people, but I suppose this one takes the cake.

A guy in my class, usually the class clown interrupting the class frequently, decided to sit next to me that day. Considering we were close to having finals the following week, I thought that was wise of him. In addition to being slow-witted and basically giant-sized, his Achilles was his voice, for he had a rather squeaky voice for such a massive physique.

The first 20 minutes of class go smoothly, devoid of Squeaky's usually merciless class obstructions. All the better for my mind to rest. And suddenly he turns to me and asks a question.

I didn't quite hear what he said, that being a combination of me not listening (or giving a damn) and his high-pitched voice my sensible ears filter out most of the time. And slapstick as I am, I responded:

"I'm sorry, but I don't speak Smurf"

(For you uncultivated, the smurfs are the little blue cartoon creatures - Schtroumpf in French)

Thankfully, the cyclops was rather speech-and-mentally challenged and didn't understand a word I said.

I suppose I'm grateful for having an accent few Lebanese associate to properly, otherwise, I'd be in for a good beating.

Cheers!

E